Boldly Gone
by Scholar of Imagination
Summary: There's an intruder on the Enterprise, but who is she and, more importantly, where did she come from? Takes place sometime between Into Darkness and Beyond (i.e. during the first couple of years of the five-year mission). Rated T for very brief language.
1. Chapter 1

It was a surprisingly normal day on the _U.S.S. Enterprise_ , and for once Captain James T. Kirk was glad for the inactivity. The past three weeks had been filled with meetings with interplanetary dignitaries and negotiations regarding various high-stakes treaties. While there had been no major SNAFUs, the entire crew was worn out from almost a month of dress uniforms and strict etiquette guidelines. Yes, it was nice to do nothing but maintain the course of the ship again.

A crackle of the intercom brought Kirk suddenly back to the present.

"Capt'n? Scotty here."

"Captain Kirk here. What seems to be the problem, Mr. Scott?"

"Sir, I cannae explain it; the transporters seem to have spontaneously activated!"

"When did this start, Mr. Scott?"

"Records indicate the phenomenon initiated approximately 6.57 minutes ago," Spock chimed in from his station on the bridge.

"Aye, Sir," Scotty confirmed. "The technician com'ed me about three minutes ago and I've been here ever since. I'll keep working on it but I still don' have any idea what's wrong, Sir."

"Thank you, Mr. Scott. Meet me in engineering." Hearing the distress in his chief engineer's voice, he added, "Would you like me to bring Mr. Chekov with me?" The favor was accepted and Kirk signed off, removing his hand from the com button and sighing internally. So much for a normal day…

"Captain, sensors are indicating that the problem resides in the quantum diffraction regulator. If the malfunction is not rectified in approximately 8.6 minutes there is an 83% chance of serious damage to the ship and her crew."

"Thank you, Mr. Spock," Kirk replied, signing audibly this time and hauling himself to his feet. "I'll go and see if I can help Scotty; come on, Chekov. You have the conn, Mr. Spock."

The vulcan nodded once and settled himself in the chair Kirk had just vacated while Kirk and Chekov made their way to the turbolift to assist Scotty.

Down in engineering, Kirk found Scotty up to his eyeballs in chaos. Ensigns were rushing around frantically, and it was a testament to the engineer's extreme duress that the offer of the young Russian's help was accepted.

"Spock says it's the quantum diffusion regulator," Kirk said by way of greeting.

"Aye, but they're clean. The only other possibility is the atom circulator."

"Or the adwanced momentum lock," Chekov added, scanning the displays.

"Either way, I dinnea wan' to experience a meltdown of either one of _those_ firsthand," Scotty fretted, suddenly diving underneath the console in a desperate effort to keep his Lady unharmed.

Kirk rolled up his sleeves and sighed again. "Let's get to work."

Back in the transporter room, Lieutenant Kyla Planck was rummaging around under the controls of the transporter, her café au lait skin glowing eerily in the light of the broken transporter. Suddenly, her concentration was shattered by a flash of light and the appearance of something… _someone_ …on the transporter pad.

"Captain? Lt. Planck here," the brunette said, placing a shaking hand on the com button and slowly drawing her phaser.

"Commander Spock speaking. Go ahead, Lieutenant."

"It's the transporter, Sir. It seems to have experienced a… _malfunction_."

"Your report, Lt. Planck."

"A girl, Sir. I haven't beamed anyone aboard, but she's just… _here_. I have a phaser on her, but she appears to be unconscious, Sir."

"Thank you, Lieutenant; I will be there to assist you momentarily. Maintain your position and confirm that your phaser is set to stun."

"Thank you, Sir. Planck out."

Kyla ended the communication and took a step towards the pad. She hesitated, wondering if she should try to extract the girl from the beam or perhaps even continue to try to fix the machinery. But she didn't get long enough to make a decision. Suddenly, the blue haze of the transporter beam fizzled and died. Lt. Planck relaxed slightly, looking up at the beam generators; that was one crisis sorted.

A flurry of movement in her peripheral vision caught her attention. Looking back down at the intruder she was met with a pair of wide blue eyes.

"Hey, hey, hey," she soothed, lowering her phaser at the obvious signs of terror on the girl's face. "I'm not going to hurt you."

But the girl was scrambling to her feet faster than Kyla's brain could process what was happening.

As luck ( _Unluck? Was that a word?_ the woman wondered) would have it, Spock chose the exact moment the girl rushed towards the door to arrive at the transporter room.

Pneumatic pistons hissed as the door opened and the imposing vulcan breezed into the room – and the mysterious visitor exited at top speed.


	2. Chapter 2

Engineering was still working frantically to fix the transporter. Scotty had finally determined that it actually was the QDR, but the component in question was actually connected to the advanced momentum lock.

"Bridge to Captain," Uhura's voice echoed from the speaker on the wall. "Come in, Captain."

"Here, Lieutenant," Kirk answered, jumping up from the console where he had been working, swiping at his sweaty forehead with his sleeve.

"We've just been informed by Lt. Planck in the transporter room of a new… _development_."

"Go on."

"It's just…" A heavy sigh. "A person has appeared on the transporter pad; a…a girl, Sir."

"What? Are you sure?"

"Very. Commander Spock is on his way over to assess the situation; no alert has yet been issued."

Just then, a young voice cried out in triumph and there was a palpable shift in the atmosphere of the deck.

"Sounds like Chekov just fixed the transporter; as long as I'm not still needed here I'll go see what's happening."

"Roger that. Uhura out."

"Scotty, is everything under control now?" Kirk called out to the chief engineer, who was now busy checking Chekov's work.

"Aye, Sir; the wee laddie here's pulled us through another one!"

"Good man," Kirk smiled at the sweaty but beaming young Russian.

"Eet vas no trouble, Sir!" the young man chirped.

"I'll see you guys later then; I've gotta' go help Spock with something." _No need to put everyone on high alert until absolutely necessary_ , he thought, leaving the deck at top speed.

Once in the transporter room, Kirk came face-to-face with his second-in-command trying to get information out of a very confused lieutenant.

"Spock, what's going on?"

"Captain, according to Lt. Planck, while the transporter was malfunctioning what appeared to be a human girl materialized on the landing pad. Unfortunately, the Lieutenant did not have sufficient time to take a tricorder reading and, just as I entered the room, the girl ran away through the door and is now loose in the ship. I was merely attempting to ascertain where she may have gone when you arrived."

"Spock, you mean we have an unknown… _person_ just gallivanting around my ship?"

"As Lt. Planck did not seem to think she posed a threat I thought it more logical to try to pinpoint her location instead of simply… _gallivanting_ around the ship ourselves."

"Well, you thought wrong! Couldn't you have just followed her? Kirk to bridge; do you read me?" The last sentence was directed at the comm unit on the wall of the room.

"Uhura here."

"Listen, scan the ship for any unidentified life signals."

"Give me a second," the smooth, unflappable voice answered. Kirk mumbled his assent and took the opportunity to glare at Spock, who had set his face into an unreadable yet vaguely smug expression. Kirk rolled his eyes at vulcans as a whole as the voice of his communications officer crackled again through the speakers.

"Deck 4, section B, Captain. Shall I send back-up?"

"No thanks, Uhura. I think Spock and I can manage it for now; better to keep this on the DL anyways. I'll let you know if you need help."

"Roger that. Uhura out."

Spock was already out the door, feel pounding down the corridor as the intercom went silent. Kirk was almost out the door himself before he remembered that there was someone else in the room. He turned quickly and placed his hand on the arm of a very worried-looking Lt. Planck.

"Are you okay, Kyla?" he asked, genuinely concerned.

"I think so, Sir. You go; I'll clean up here." She gestured vaguely at the mess she had made trying to fix the transporter.

"Good man… err, woman. I'll keep you updated." And with a final clap on his crewmember's shoulder, Kirk was out the door and hot on Spock's heels.


	3. Chapter 3

Spock flew down the ship's hallways as fast as his long legs would take him. Even with his highly-trained senses of observation, unsuspecting crewmembers were forced physically out of his way, as his whole being was currently focused on capturing the unknown person threatening the safety of the _Enterprise_. He made it to Deck 4 in record time (2.38 minutes, to be exact) and pulled up on his heels once he reached Section B. All was quiet, and there wasn't a soul in sight, authorized or otherwise.

"Anything, Spock?" Kirk inquired, finally catching up to his first officer.

"Negative, Captain. It would appear as if our mystery intruder had disappeared. However…"

"What is it?" Kirk whispered loudly, rolling his eyes slightly when Spock glared at him. He watched silently as the vulcan noiselessly padded over to a door at the end of the hallway and held his ear up against the panel.

"Spock, that's a broom cupboard," he tried to snark, but was quickly shut down when his second-in-command pulled out his phaser, murmuring "set to stun" under his breath. Kirk did the same, all humor gone from his voice.

The Captain stepped back, aiming his phaser at the door, as Spock held up three fingers and began counting down.

Three… two… on one Spock opened the door and was instantly thrown backwards, phaser skittering across the floor, as he was hit unexpectedly with what looked like a small, fleshy cannonball.

Kirk watched helplessly, afraid of hitting Spock with a stun beam but also equally unwilling to hit the intruder, who was indeed a young girl who didn't look any older than sixteen.

Both Spock and Kirk were surprised that the girl fought the brick wall of a man with whom she had collided, but it was by no means a fair fight and Spock quickly had her pinned to the floor.

"Is that really necessary?" Kirk asked, stowing his phaser and kneeling down anxiously next to the pair on the floor; the girl had cried out in pain when Spock's knees has slammed roughly into her chest.

"I supposed not," the vulcan said, taking his weight off the girl beneath him, who sighed in relief as the pressure subsided, and demanded to know who she was and how she had gotten on the _Enterprise_.

"The what?" she asked, making to sit up, but it felt like there was a knife stabbing her in the ribs; she felt herself being lowered back to the ground and then nothing at all.

* * *

 **Short chapter, but this is a good place to stop.**


	4. Chapter 4

The next thing the girl was aware of was staring up at a perfectly smooth white ceiling and listening to two men arguing.

"Spock, you're telling me that you wrestled this kid to the ground? She looks younger than the Russian whiz kid!" an angry Southern voice said, and she could recognize the strangely monotonous voice of the guy with the weird pointed ears attempting to defend his actions.

 _Serves him right_ , she thought, slowly pushing herself up to a seated position, trying to minimize the pain in her left side. _Everything hurts._

She blinked a couple of times to clear her blurry vision and was taken aback at the sight of her surroundings: she seemed to be locked in some sort of tank, like an animal in the zoo. Could things get any worse? What was going on and where the _heck_ was she?

* * *

Dr. McCoy's attention was wrenched away from the face of an almost-embarrassed looking Spock by the sound of a thud against the glass of the cell to his right in the brig; he looked over just in time to see the form of the mystery intruder slide to the floor, clutching her side in obvious pain.

"For God's sake, man, get this door open! What the hell did you do to her?" the doctor yelled, barreling into the chamber just as soon as the entrance was big enough to allow him passage.

"Hey, darlin', my name's Dr. Lenard McCoy. What's yours?" he soothed, kneeling down to the girl's position on the floor and putting on his best you-haven't-yet-given-me-a-reason-to-pull-my-hair-out bedside manner.

"Rosalind McDonald, but I usually go by Rosie." She was obviously in respiratory distress.

"Well, Rosie, it sure is nice to meet ya. I can see that you're in some pain there; mind if I see what that damn hobgoblin over there did to you?" McCoy asked, jerking his head towards Spock, who was standing a little ways behind him, but waited for the girl to shake her head in assent before reaching for his tricorder.

"Hurts to breathe," she almost whispered, watching Spock warily for a few moments before turning her attention back to McCoy and the device in his hand. "What's that?"

"My tricorder?" McCoy paused his scanning, bewildered, and looked back at Spock, (almost) all ire forgotten.

"Miss McDonald," Spock queried, all emotion hidden from view, "do you know what year it is?"

"Last time I checked it was 2017."

The girl looked terrified, and McCoy wanted nothing more than to tuck her into a biobed and administer a few choice hypos, but he settled for another jab at his friend in the meantime: "The kid's got three broken ribs, is on the verge of puncturing her lung, and now you're telling me she's from two centuries ago? See, this is what happens when you go to space in a fancy tin can!"

"Space?" Rosie's small voice quivered.

"Shit."

* * *

 **Well, this chapter felt a lot longer when I was handwriting it. Ah, well...  
** **Finally re-watched _Beyond_ and decided that this takes place sometime between _Into Darkness_ and _Beyond_ (i.e. during the first couple of years of the five-year mission). I'm just about to add that to the story summary, and I'm going to increase the rating to T for language (but I'm really not going to use anything stronger than what I've used already). Hope you're all enjoying this; I'm having fun writing it! **


	5. Chapter 5

Spock excused himself to go talk to the Captain while McCoy called Nurse Chapel to bring down a stretcher and grabbed the emergency med kit on the wall outside the holding cell, talking to Rosie all the while. The young girl was very near to a full-blown panic attack, and rightly so, in McCoy's opinion; she'd have to be a vulcan for this to not have upset her dramatically.

Kneeling back down next to her with the med kit, he pulled out a hypo and loaded it with a mild anxiolytic.

"Hey, Rosie, this is called a hypospray, ok? It's like an injection, but it uses compressed air instead of a needle. Is it ok if I give you something to help you calm down?" The girl nodded miserably. "Ok, it might sting a little but it shouldn't last long. You might feel like laughing once it kicks in though!"

McCoy gently administered the drug into her upper arm, praying to God she wasn't allergic to it; that would be just what he needed: another blonde with the immune system of an infant. For once, however, luck was on his side, and he watched the pain lines disappear and a goofy smile break out on her face.

"There ya go," he smiled back at her, "and here's Nurse Christine Chapel; she's gonna help me get you out of here!" Indeed, Chapel had arrived at the brig with a stretcher and an oxygen mask, unusually alone; McCoy thought it would be best to keep Rosie protected from the prying eyes and loose lips of the crew for as long as possible.

He conferred briefly with his right-hand, telling her everything he knew; if there was one person on the ship he could always trust 100%, it was Christine Chapel. After introducing her to Rosie, the pair were able to quickly get the girl onto the bed and comfortable enough to being the brief trip to the medbay.

McCoy had been getting slightly nervous because he had yet to hear Rosie say more than about twenty-five words in the entire time he had known her. He had chalked it up to the pain of breathing and the fear of her incredible predicament, but a small flame of relief was beginning to grow inside him; the anti-anxiety meds and additional oxygen seemed to be doing wonders.

"So, Dr. McCoy? You said we were in space?" she sounded quite incredulous in her drugged state, but of course she had asked one of the questions he was really not in the mood to discuss with her at the moment.

"Don't you worry your pretty little head about that right now," he said, glancing down from his place at the head of the bed into the blue-grey eyes peering out from over the O2 mask. Luckily, they arrived at the doors to the (thankfully empty) medbay just at the moment, and McCoy was mercifully rescued from having to field any more loaded questions by the hustle and bustle that always accompanied the settling-in of a new patient.

He and Chapel agreed that, while in short supply and usually reserved for only the most critical of patients, Rosie should be placing in one of the ship's three isolation rooms. While she wasn't in any immediate danger , the two were worried about the spread of diseases not only from the crew to Rosie, but also from her to the crew; many diseases had been completely eradicated since Rosie's time, but many new ones had also been discovered, especially with the contact Earth now had with species on other planets.

McCoy silenced the biobed alarms before Rosie was moved onto it, not wanted to overload her psyche any more than it surely already was. He frowned at the grimace on her face when Chapel pulled Rosie over onto the biobed with the sheet the girl was laying on.

"You allergic to anything, sweetheart? I want to give you a painkiller before I fix your ribs."

"Just latex," she replied, reaching up for the oxygen mask to pull it aside.

"Leave that thing alone!" McCoy snapped reflexively, fiddling with another hypo and muttering incoherently about the "Dark Ages of Medicine" and "incompetent old fools."

"Sorry," Rosie apologized, settling back onto the bed. "I wanted to see how it works… and it smells funny." She seemed to add the last bit as an afterthought.

"Oh, don't worry, darlin'," McCoy chuckled, "I have a friend who always does the same exact thing and I'm just so used to him acting out." Rosie giggled at that, and the doctor was able to skate over the fact that the friend in question was actually the captain of the ship. "You can look at this one, though." He pulled a second mask from the shelves beside the bed and handed it to her before telling her to hold still and pressing the hypo against her arm. A flash of pain went across her face but then it was gone, and McCoy's trained eye noticed she had relaxed further into the pillows behind her as the drug kicked in. What a champ, unlike _some_ people he could name!

"It's not connected to a tank," she was still enraptured with the high-tech (to her) mask. "So does just take O2 in with this little nozzle and compress it by itself?"

"Yup." McCoy allowed himself a brief moment of awe before reclining the head of the bed and taking the mask from her hands, getting Rosie ready for the osteoregenerator, which Chapel had just wheeled in.

"Rosie, according to our scans, you have hairline fractures in two of your ribs and the third is more severe," Chapel explained, positioning the arm of the apparatus over the bones in question. "This machine is going to accelerate the healing process, but you have to stay extremely still. It feels like a really bad case of pins-and-needles, so we're going to sedate you…"

"No!" Rosie pleaded, pushing herself up on her elbows as McCoy rushed to push her back into a less dangerous position.

"It'll only be for an hour at most…" the doctor began.

"Please." Their patient was on the verge of tears, and McCoy relented despite his better medical judgement; doctors also had a duty to look after their charges' mental health, and what this _kid_ needed right now was to maintain at least an iota of control over what was happening to her.

"Alright, but is it ok if I give you something to help you relax a little more? It might make you sleepy but it won't knock you out."

McCoy saw in her face that this really hadn't been the trade-off she'd been hoping for (but with the way that green-blooded hobgoblin had _kneeled_ on her _chest_ there was no way he was backing down any further), but she nodded tiredly; with any luck she'd be asleep within ten minutes anyway.

He nodded to Chapel who quickly prepared the hypo and, having observed her superior's actions earlier, pressed it against the girl's upper arm; they'd start using her carotid artery when Rosie was more accustomed to all the new technology, as the smallest constant was sometimes a patient's biggest comfort.

McCoy could see the remaining tension leak out from around Rosie's eyes as the drug took effect, and the three slipped into what promised to be an interesting discussion regarding the science and history of the osteoregenerator. However, as McCoy had predicted, it quickly came to a close when Rosie, exhausted from hours of adrenaline coursing through her veins fell into a much-needed sleep. Chapel gently and efficiently changed the girl into gown (while she doubted that _this_ constant would make Rosie any more comfortable) and finally started the osteoregenerator before bustling off to finish some paperwork before the end of her shift.

McCoy, on the other hand, scrubbed his face wearily with his hands and took a seat at his desk, from where he could keep an eye on both his patient and the entrance to the medbay, to begin his medical report on everything that had happened, building up his courage for what he knew was coming.

The Brass was gonna have a field day with this one.

* * *

 **This is my longest chapter yet! Hope you guys don't mind that this temporarily turned into a medical fic (it's what I like to read; fight me), but we're pretty much past that so don't worry if that's not your cup of tea. Also, I know that Chapel isn't in the reboot but she's important to me and I think she should be and this is my story so ha! Reviews and follows and everything are lovely; let me know if there's anything you want me to answer in an upcoming chapter (save how the heck Rosie got on the _Enterprise_ ; that's the next chapter!). Love, BEK**

 **P.S. I once had a doctor say the same thing to me before giving me an anti-anxiety drug before a cardiac catherization (yes I laughed afterwards; that was some good stuff please don't do drugs and stay in school)**


	6. Chapter 6

She seemed to come back to consciousness all at one, but she was a heck of a lot more comfortable than the last time; it no longer hurt to breathe and she was lying on something warm and soft. Rosie opened her eyes, and the painful whiteness and smell of disinfectant hit her like a ton of bricks. Her heart dropped into her stomach and she felt tears welling up in the corners of her eyes as everything flooded back. She was going to absolutely _murder_ Chris when she got back home.

Angrily, she swiped the tears from her eyes (of _course_ she was hooked up to an IV) and, albeit carefully, pushed herself up into a seated position on the bed. The room spun and her vision darkened, and it was precisely then that the door chose to open; she heard the pneumatic hiss of the entryway to the room and the footsteps of two people before her blood pressure came stabilized and she could see enough to tell who it was.

Rosie recognized the first man to be Dr. McCoy, but her stomach lurch when she saw that the second was the one with the bowl cut and pointed ears that had attacked her. The quiet beeping in the background picked up in time with her heartbeat as she shrunk back towards the pillow.

"Easy there, Sweetheart," Dr. McCoy soothed, rushing over to incline the head of the bed and push her gently against it. Rosie complied without a fuss, eyes focused on the tall man who had remained by the door, hands clasped loosely behind him. "I thought you'd still be asleep."

"Sorry."

"No need to apologize; it's actually good that you're awake. This," he gestured towards the other man with his eyebrows, "is Commander Spock. He's got some questions for you, but _first_ he's like to ask for your forgiveness, right, Spock?" The Southern doctor shot a glare at his comrade that could have melted solid steel.

"That is correct." The Commander took a single step forward and nodded his head in contritely. "Miss McDonald, I am truly sorry that my actions have caused you both physical and emotional pain. I reacted rashly and will be saying as much in my reports."

"That's alright, ummmmm…Commander Spock." Rosie relaxed slightly now that she knew he wasn't going to jump her again. "I understand that I'm – uhhh – not really supposed to be here."

"Regardless, it was not logical for me to physically assault someone who had not proven herself to be a threat."

"Alright, I hate to break up this emotional heart-to-heart," McCoy cut in, "but I need to take a blood sample, if that's ok with you, Rosie, and the hobgoblin needs to ask you some other questions, if I remember correctly."

Rosie nodded her assent and held out her arm. "What for?"

"Contagious diseases. The Captain wants to get in here but the kid has the worst immune system this side of the Milky Way. I've got to make sure you're not going to sneeze and kill him." Rosie nodded again, keeping one eye on what Dr. McCoy was doing, turned her attention back to Commander Spock.

"Ummm…would you like a seat?" Spock inclined his head in thanks and stepped forward to alight in the proffered chair as McCoy gave Rosie's arm back to her and stepped off to the side of the room to analyze her blood.

"I will be brief. First of all, you said earlier that you are from the 21st century?" Rosie nodded. "If you would be so kind as to tell me where geographically you are from and what events preceded your arrival here." That was most certainly _not_ a question.

"Hold on, Spock. I'm 99% sure she's clean; let me get Kirk in here so she doesn't have to do this twice."

McCoy com'ed Captain Kirk and not ten seconds later the man in question burst into the room. Rosie's first impression was that he was almost too big for the space. Not that he was a large man, but the joviality and confidence exuding from his very pores seemed to strain the confines of the room.

"You must be Miss McDonald! Welcome aboard the _U.S.S. Enterprise_!"

"Thank you." Rosie shook his hand awkwardly and then watched him plop heavily into the chair Dr. McCoy had across the floor and settled next to Spock's. "You're the Captain?"

"Yes, ma'am! Captain James T. Kirk, and it is my pleasure to _personally_ welcome you on board!" He gave a sort of gallant half bow, which was difficult while seated in a chair with arm rests.

"OK, you and Spock have half an hour before I kick you two out. My patient needs rest."

"Boooooones!"

"I'm serious, Captain Kirk."

"Are you pulling rank on me _now_?"

"You bet your ass I am." McCoy turned to Rosie. "Darlin', if these two get to be too much for you, just yell and I'll come running." She nodded her understanding and he was gone. She wished he had stayed; he was one of the few people she had met who hadn't chased her into a broom closet.

The door slid shut on a very uncomfortable silence. I must have been a full minute before anyone spoke, and then it was the Captain who broke the ice.

"I'm truly sorry for treating you as we did earlier."

"That's alright; I know you were just trying to protect your… _ship_?" The Captain nodded.

"Now, Miss McDonald, if you could please give us your account of the recent events." It was the Commander this time. Rosie wasn't really sure where or how to start, and looked down at her hands tangled up in the blanket on her lap. "Miss McDonald, time may be short and -"

"Spock, give her a minute, OK? Take your time, Miss McDonald; we're not scheduled to be anywhere for at least a week."

"No, it's OK; I'm ready."

"Then go ahead; we're listening."

"Ummmm…well, let's see…so I live in upstate New York – but it's not like _Upstate_ upstate, it's more northwest – and I work at a hospital there -"

"What do you do?" Captain Kirk interrupted.

"It's a patient care technician position, essentially a nurses' aide."

"Nurse Chapel will be interested to hear that!"

"It's only a temporary thing, though; I'm hoping to hear back from some medical schools soon."

"Congratulations," Commander Spock's eyebrows twitched with the sentiment. Did he look pleased?

"Thanks," Rosie smiled slightly in return, but it quickly disappeared. "So anyway, I was on the night shift but my friend Chris – he's a grad student at a university nearby – he wanted me to come look at something he's been building before work.

Now, he's been really secretive about this project and not many people know what he's working on, so I was really excited to go see it. And I get there and he takes me to his lab and it's absolutely amazing! This thing is sort of two half tubes that are probably around six feet tall each and he tells me it's, well that it's supposed to be a teleporter."

"A teleporter? Spock, but that technology wasn't available until the early 22nd century!"

"Well, Captain, it would appear then that the operative word is _available_."

"But he said he hadn't even gotten it to work yet! I went in it just for fun and I guess he must have been goofing around and pressing buttons or something and then suddenly I heard what sounded like a million bees and my body got all tingly and then I blacked out and woke up here."

Rosie was on the verge of tears again, but Spock and Kirk just stared at her. It took the reappearance of Dr. McCoy to spur them into action.

"Alright, I don't know what's going on in here but it's only been twenty minutes and her vitals are through the roof! I'm sure she gave you something to think about, so y'all need to leave before I hypo the both of you into oblivion!"

"Doctor, Miss McDonald appears to have experienced one of the first functioning teleportation devices," the unflappable Spock informed him. "By all odds she is lucky to be alive."

* * *

 **Hello, friends! I am here! Sorry this hasn't been updated in a while; I've been busy with schoolwork and it's Spring Break so instead of leaving the country I'm at home snuggling with my pets, drinking too much tea, trying to get homework done, and writing furiously! I'm struggling a little getting Kirk's voice right, but I think Spock and McCoy are ok. There's a great wikipedia page about the _Star Trek_ teleporter, if anyone is interested. Hope y'all are well!**


	7. Chapter 7

Back in his quarters, Kirk paced back and forth across the floor deep in thought, hands clasped tightly behind his back. He hadn't a single clue as to how one Rosalind McDonald had gotten from one of the first functioning teleporters in the 21st century to his ship in the 23rd. Spock had babbled something about wormholes and gone off to investigate, but it was the captain's duty to inform Starfleet of the _Enterprise_ 's newest passenger.

James T. Kirk was not scared of many things, but he _was_ of what would happen to a young woman from the past if the wrong people got ahold of her.

* * *

Spock had rapidly determined that that it had indeed been an undetected fold in the space-time continuum – a phenomenon colloquially known as a wormhole – that had transported McDonald to the ship, and the ends had somehow lined up with their malfunctioning equipment and the girl's friend's experiment. What baffled him, however, was that the likelihood of anyone actually being transported by the anomaly were so incredibly small that he could not justify determining the numerical odds. Furthermore, wormhole openings were fickle, often either moving erratically or opening inconsistently, which meant with 99.99% certainty that they would not be able to return Rosalind McDonald to her home.

* * *

A video conference had been called by Starfleet command to discuss the unusual Situation, and Rosie found herself standing awkwardly outside a meeting room with Nurse Chapel, pulling on the sleeves of the form-fitting black shirt she had been given to wear and listening to the sounds of four men arguing from behind a closed door. Three she recognized (Dr. McCoy, Capt. Kirk, and Cmdr. Spock), but the fourth was an imperious unknown entity. Rosie heard the Nurse telling her about the Doctor's daughter, but she was more focused on the increasingly-heated discussion of her fate, miffed that she wasn't allowed to enter the room until summoned.

A buzz came from the panel on the wall and Rosie heard the Commander's voice telling Nurse Chapel to admit her to the room, who in turn nodded encouragingly as the door slid open with a pneumatic hiss.

Swallowing nervously, Rosie stepped into the room, which seemed to resemble a sort of private movie theater, holding five chairs in an arc before a large screen set into the wall. Capt. Kirk sat in the middle with Mr. Spock on his right and his CMO on his left, and the image of a bald man of about 60 filled the screen, dark eyes pinning Rosie to the floor. She noted with some detached amusement that apparently it was possible for her mouth to get drier.

"Miss McDonald, if you would be so kind as to come in a take a seat." Cmdr. Spock did not phrase it as a question. She managed to make it to the chair beside Dr. McCoy without her legs giving out beneath her and gratefully collapsed into it, feet dangling about five inches from the ground. _Typical_.

"Miss McDonald," the Captain addressed, "this is Admiral Joseph Wilson, one of the heads of Starfleet."

"Hello, Sir." Rosie forced herself to meet his eyes, and thought she might detect a tight smile tugging at his lips.

"Miss McDonald, Captain Kirk and his officers here have told me your story, so I will not make you recount it again yourself. In fact, Dr. McCoy has…advised _strongly_ against it." Rosie thought she herd the man in question mutter something that sounded like _Yer darn tootin'_ under his breath. Any trace of a smile had vanished from the Admiral's face. "However, you must understand that this situation is highly irregular, but protocol would have you brought immediately to Earth for evaluation and resettlement."

" _Resettlement_? Can't you just send me home?"

"You haven't told her?" The admiral looked annoyed at the disruption of proceedings.

"Miss McDonald," Dr. McCoy leaned over and placed a hand on Rosie's arm before anyone else could intervene, "you came through a wormhole that has since collapsed or moved. There's no way to get you back."

"But this is what? Like the 28th century? There's gotta' be _something_ …" Her voice cracked with the effort of holding back tears.

"The 23rd, not the 28th."

"Spock, not now," the Captain snapped.

"I'm so sorry, darlin'."

The walls of the tiny room were closing in around her and it was getting harder to breathe through her spasming throat, so she bolted.

And didn't get very far. As soon as Capt. Kirk's hand closed around her bicep she lost control of the hot, angry tears that had been threating to escape. Rosie tried to throw him off, but she was still no match for the fit, young man.

"Miss McDonald, please! It's going to be alright!"

"How can you _say_ that?"

"I suppose I can't." By now, Kirk had both of Rosie's arms pinned gently to her sides, and this statement managed to still her to the point where their two pairs of blue eyes met and held the other's gaze. "But we're going to do our best."

* * *

 **Hello, everyone! I'm incredibly sorry for the delay; my only excuses are that it was a long semester and that I'm an A+ procrastinator! Hope this chapter is up to snuff; I don't know why y'all like this story so much... Feedback is much appreciated and scientifically proven to produce a more motivated writer! ;) ~BEK**


	8. Chapter 8

Nurse Chapel escorted Rosie to one of the guest quarters and then bustled off to "give her some space," an unfortunate if accurate turn of phrase, in Rosie's opinion. The silence echoed loudly when the door slid shut, despite the ever-present engine hum that seemed to permeate the very walls of the ship.

The blackness outside the single porthole drew Rosie towards it like a moth to a flame. It was a dimensionless void: beautiful yet incredibly sad.

Numb once again, Rosie lay down on the tightly-made bed and slept.

* * *

"Admiral, I would like to propose something."

"Speak, Captain Kirk."

"I would like to submit a request for a new crew member aboard the _U.S.S. Enterprise_."

* * *

A hollow knock at the door startled Rosie out of a dreamless sleep. The light in the room was unchanged; it was impossible to estimate how long she had been asleep. Disoriented, she pushed herself into a seated position and hastily brushed the hair from her eyes.

"Come in." Even screwing her fists into her eyes did nothing to lessen the surprise that accompanied the arrival of a curly-haired boy about her age.

"Miss McDonald?"

"What time is it?" Rosie croaked stupidly, her brain working overtime to reprocess everything that had happened.

"Ummmm…computer, time?" The young man was clearly thrown off by this line of questioning.

"Ship's time is 1623." The flat feminine voice did little to ground Rosie back in reality, and she continued to stare blankly at the person in front of her.

"Miss McDonald, my name ees Ensign Chekov," the boy tried again. "I've been instructed to escort you to Dr. McCoy's office."

Though it was not a long walk from the guest quarters to the med bay, the awkward silence between the two young people warped the distance so that it was unbearably long. "Zee Keptin told me you are studying to become a doctor," Chekov prompted, trying to fill the space by drawing Rosie into conversation.

"Not yet." She was still too dazed and anxious to take much of the bait.

A long silence.

"Vhat vould you like to do?"

"Pediatrics maybe." More silence until they, mercifully, reached the med bay.

"Vell, I, uh…hope to see you around."

"Yeah, you too."

* * *

Rosie entered the room and was startled to find Captain Kirk sitting in Dr. McCoy's chair, feet up leisurely on the desk. Mr. Spock stood beside him, silent, immutable, and unfailingly professional. The doctor himself was nowhere to be seen.

"Miss McDonald, please take a seat," the Captain grinned, removing his feet from their perch and sitting forward in his chair. She wasn't sure, but Rosie _thought_ she saw the vulcan roll his eyes ever so slightly. She sat down in the right of the two chairs placed in front of the great mahogany desk, putting as much space between herself and Cmdr. Spock as possible; she still didn't trust him not to explode at the slightest provocation.

Looking around the room curiously, she noticed that it was a smaller office than once would expect of a CMO aboard a spaceship, but she supposed space was at a premium in space. The desk took up most of the room, and there was little else beyond some locked cases full of books and a tired couch pushed up against the wall behind her. The desk itself was practically spotless: there were some photos underneath a pane of glass on its surface, most of a smiling young girl with wild hair, and a weird-looking iPad that chimed every so often. The Captain began to speak, and Rosie returned her attention to his boyish face.

"Miss McDonald, you have previously informed me that you are actively pursuing a medical career back in your own time. Is this true?"

"Yes, sir." She swallowed dryly.

"If I were to offer you a chance to continue to do so, would you accept?"

"Maybe; what's the catch?"

An amused twitch of an eyebrow and a faint smile: "No catch, Miss McDonald, unless you object to enrollment at Starfleet Academy and preliminary education aboard the _U.S.S. Enterprise_."

"That sounds like a catch to me, Sir. I have little interest in joining the military."

"On the contrary, Miss McDonald," Cmdr. Spock smoothly interrupted, "Starfleet is strictly a peacekeeping and exploratory organization."

"That's what most militia say."

"I understand your concern," Captain Kirk cut in, "but otherwise I will be forced to turn you over to my superiors, an after that I can no longer guarantee your safety...or your happiness." The burst of harsh truth seemed to tire the man, making him look older, burdened.

"I believe you now understand the enormity of your decision, and I sincerely hope you will not do the Captain a disservice by dismissing the great lengths to which he has gone to secure this opportunity for you." Yep, it was official: Rosie did _not_ like Cmdr. Spock.

But he did have a point.

"You've convinced me, Commander. I accept your generous proposal, Captain Kirk."

"In that case, welcome to Starfleet, Cadet McDonald!"

* * *

 **Yes, I know it's been over six months since my last update! I sort of write these in my head and then write them down on paper and _then_ type them up, and I get stuck at step one very often! Even now I'm not completely pleased with the end of this chapter, but it moves the story along and that's what really counts at this point. **

**Thanks for your continued support and kind accolades! ~BEK 3**


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